


wise men say

by oui_oui_mon_ami



Series: can't help falling in love [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Multi, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 13:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19888522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oui_oui_mon_ami/pseuds/oui_oui_mon_ami
Summary: enjolras falls for combeferre





	wise men say

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Elmer & Spot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708501) by [astrangepurplefairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangepurplefairy/pseuds/astrangepurplefairy). 



> oof so this series is based on a series of newsies fics called 'the moment i fell' by astrangepurplefairy that i fell in love with (haha) the first fic is above so give that a read pls

Enjolras and Combeferre have been inseparable since they were eight: both intelligent, curious young boys, Enjolras’ fiery, outspoken nature complemented by Combeferre’s more reserved but equally as intense one. They had each other and no one else during their childhood, and that was absolutely fine. It only mattered that they had each other’s backs. It was them against the world.

Except sometimes, the world would win.

They are both sixteen when Enjolras knocks on Combeferre’s door late one night. He knows Combeferre’s parents are out, and there’s no way he can go back to his own looking like he does. Which sucks, because he really doesn’t want Combeferre seeing him like this either.

Combeferre opens the door in his pyjamas, and his face grows ashen as soon as he gives Enjolras a once-over. He’s temporarily lost for words – a feat which Enjolras would have congratulated himself over had the circumstances been different – but eventually he breathes, swallows, and says in a low and terrifyingly calm voice, “Who did this to you?”

“Two men were harassing a girl at the bus station. Trying to stick their hands up her skirt, cornering her and trying to kiss her. I thought I’d tell them what I thought of them.” He grimaces. “Mind if I get myself cleaned up here? Before my parents see me and kick me out for ruining a perfectly good suit jacket.” He gestures to the large tear on his right elbow and the blood stains down his front.

Combeferre’s face falls again, but he holds the door open for Enjolras to enter. “Go to the bathroom, let me grab the first aid kit.” Enjolras knows his way around the house with his eyes closed, and begins to strip off his jacket and shirt. He sees his own reflection in the mirror for the first time, and it shocks him. He’s paler than he ever thought possible. A large purple bruise is starting to form around his eye, and he has cuts on his cheekbone and lower lip. There’s dried blood above and below his mouth from a nosebleed, and there’s a nasty scrape on his forehead from when one of the bastards slammed his face into the pavement. _At least the girl got away_ , he thinks.

Combeferre knocks and enters, holding a first aid kit and a glass of water which he hands to Enjolras. “You look even worse in this light,” he says, his eyes wide.

“Thanks,” Enjolras replies dryly.

“Well I’m not exactly going to tell you that you look beautiful in the moonlight, am I?” Combeferre says. “Sit down. Shirt off.” Enjolras obeys and Combeferre drops some rubbing alcohol on a cotton pad. “This is probably going to hurt,” he says, and gently cups Enjolras’ jaw while dabbing the pad on his forehead. Enjolras winces as the alcohol hits the gash on his head, but Combeferre shushes him. “Don’t be a baby,” he coos. “Who’ll be my partner in Spanish if your wounds turn septic and you die?”

“I’m glad you’re only friends with me for my language skills,” Enjolras says flatly.

Combeferre doesn’t say anything for a moment. He gets out another cotton pad. “You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”

Enjolras sighs, knowing that this would come up. “I had to do it. No one else was around, and I wasn’t just going to be some bystander in a sexual assault.”

“You should’ve been more careful.”

“I was as careful as I could’ve been! I didn’t even throw the first punch this time! I merely approached them calmly and asked them what they thought they were doing. And then they came for me!” Enjolras meets Combeferre’s concerned gaze with a stubborn one. “The girl got away safely, and I didn’t die. So it’s all fine.”

“No, it’s not fine! You can’t keep endangering yourself for the sake of others!” Combeferre isn’t raising his voice, but Enjolras can tell he’s getting more worked up.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not fair!” Combeferre cries suddenly. Enjolras blinks. “I meant what I said earlier,” he continues, voice quieter again. “What would I actually do without you? You’re my best friend. I can’t lose you. You did the right thing tonight, and I’m sorry for getting angry at you, but I worry when you endanger yourself. Okay?”

“Okay,” Enjolras replies, somehow unable to look away from Combeferre’s dark, searching eyes. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Apology accepted,” Combeferre says, drawing Enjolras into a hug as they sit together on the side of the bathtub. “Let’s finish getting you cleaned up. You can wear some of my clothes tonight.”

“Thank you.” And Enjolras hopes Combeferre knows he isn’t just thanking him for the clothes, or even for the first aid. Enjolras wants to thank him for being his best friend. For always being there for him, even at almost midnight. For caring about him enough to worry about him. Enjolras is suddenly hit by an overwhelming affection for his best friend and the only thought racing around his head is _I love you Combeferre_ –

What?

Enjolras puts it down to exhaustion and high emotions. Besides, it could just be platonic love, the kind that does make you worry when your friend turns up, bleeding, on your doorstep. Enjolras doesn’t have time for romantic love.

So then why does he suddenly really want to kiss Combeferre?

And why, in the back of his mind, does he have a certainty that he doesn’t just _love_ his best friend, but he’s _in love with_ his best friend.

He’s in love with his best friend.

“You’re still an idiot,” Combeferre mutters obliviously as he bandages Enjolras’ hand.

Enjolras can’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: sunshine-soprano


End file.
